Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Hope for Brighter Tomorrow

When I was a little girl growing up on the East coast of the United States, I remember the arrival of winter with thick blankets of snow, covering everything in sight. And although I loved the sleigh rides, snow ball fights, making snow angels, and thawing out by an open fire, the thrill of these winter events began to diminish after 3-4 weeks. I would sit by our large bay window and watch the snow accumulate as another storm arrived. Those long winter days seemed endless, cold and icy; as I longed to go out and spend time exploring nature. One day, I noticed that the sun was brightly shining through the window. As I was fed up with staying inside, I rugged up in a heavy coat, gloves, boots and scarf and decided to venture outside.
Stepping out into the frosty air, I headed down the farm road to the barn. Everything was covered in white and the snow created an eerie silence. I suddenly felt like I was all alone in the world. I strained my eyes against the glare of all that white; hoping to see some sign of life.
Way off in the middle of the field, I noticed that there was some color. As I trudged off the road and got closer, I could see that the color was bright purple and that crocuses had broken through the snow. I was amazed at how much optimism and confidence that little plant showed. Regardless of the snowy, cold temperatures, it had decided to be brave and burst forth in anticipation of a warmer time to come.
Standing there looking at the bright purple flowers, it gave me hope that springtime and renewal were not too far away.
All of a sudden, slight turbulence jolted the plane and brought me back to the present moment. You see, I am returning to LA, just having spent a week in Charlottesville, Virginia visiting my Mom and my Dad, who is recovering from a stroke he had 6 weeks ago.
On the trip over, I kept steeling my heart that whatever I was presented with, I could handle. After all, I am a Healing Practitioner and a counselor and I handle issues like this all the time. When I saw my Dad, I was totally prepared from an intellectual point of view. But what I was not prepared for was the jolt to my heart.
Seeing my once healthy, larger than life Dad lying in a hospital bed made him appear to be small and vulnerable.
I was relieved to see that he was doing physically and mentally well. But the hardest part for me was to see him diminished emotionally. My once proud and independent Dad was now totally dependent on the help of others. I can’t quite remember what we spoke about; as I was not emotionally prepared to see such a change in him.
In fact, our conversation reminded me of a tiny water bug running along the top of the water. Our amiable chat avoided the obvious and skimmed just above the surface; for fear if we would venture into any deeper topics, that we might both drown. While we spoke, I suddenly felt like I was that little girl again walking all alone in a stark white colorless world, desperately scanning the landscape for a sign of hope.
My sign of hope came in the form of my brother, his wife and four children and another one of my brother’s. Our faces lit up like Christmas bulbs upon seeing one another. Clinging to each other as we tried to find an emotional anchor to help us process this experience, I noticed that we hugged a little tighter and held each other just a little bit longer.
Not having seen each other for 6 months, we would have normally talked about our businesses, our careers, and our busy lives. Yet, with the occurrence of the stroke, none of that seemed to have any importance or interest for us. We all sat around the kitchen table and laughed and joked with each other. In this way, we bonded, supported one another and loved each other deeply.
And as the jokes were flying and the laughter rang through the house, the endless expanse of snow that seemed to have covered my heart began to melt.
No matter what happens, I know that my family and their great love for me are like those purple crocuses of my childhood. I know that their presence, support, caring, and concern is my anchor and my hope that everything will be okay. No longer alone and out in the cold, I am warmed and supported in their love.
And with love, there is always hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Great Blessings and Love to you and your families at this time of year.
Claire Candy Hough
Angel Healing House
Ph: +61 831.277.3716
SKYPE: candy.hough
candy@angelhealinghouse.com
www.angelhealinghouse.com